Lolol! Precious moments! I love mom’s!
The funny thing is that Mother never had a sweet tooth until her dementia kicked in.
Actually, when she was diagnosed with dementia, over six years ago, they asked me whether she had a sweet tooth.
Apparently, it can be a symptom of dementia, and is considered a symptom of dementia - but, at that stage, she was more like myself interns of preferred taste profiles, she liked savoury food, gooseberries, apricots, cooking apples, and so on.
My father - notoriously - would cheerfully demolish a box of high end chocolates in one single sitting, but not her. She didn't really like sweets, or chocolates, and wasn't bothered by whether a dessert course existed (whereas for my father, dessert was the whole point of a meal).
At the time, I had answered in the negative, a bit puzzled. Subsequent reading confirmed that this appearance of a pronounced sweet tooth in those who had developed dementia can be quite marked. Anyway, it kicked in, bang on schedule, within a matter of months of the original diagnosis, so much so, that Mother (like a child) would not eat dinner if she caught sight of dessert.
So, the carer took to concealing dessert, unless temptation needed to be offered.
Cakes, French tarts, chocolate bars, biscuits, and candies/sweets all go down terribly well these days. There is no such thing as too sweet; fools who turned up during the summer eating ice cream cones found that my mother - having ignored them - suddenly come to life demanding the ice cream cone (and, when given it to taste, proceeded, greedily and happily, to eat it all, not just taste it and confine herself to a single bite).
Actually, (and this is funny) I've had cousins - the sort to whom my mother gave serious and excellent advice, listening to their woes and comforting and advising and mentoring them a few decades ago, the sort who congratulate themselves a little for having come to see her occasionally, - come down the stairs, wearing an expression torn between bewilderment and slight annoyance - while exclaiming indignantly with stunned surprise, "she ate all of my ice cream".
Upon further investigation it would be discovered that the culprit would be sitting up in bed, grinning from ear to ear, entirely unapologetic.